The Fredfather
by FoxyFusion
Summary: The Fazbear Crew and their Toy selves [most of them, anyway] have delved into the world of organized crime, robbing banks, sticking up shops, breaking out of jail, all the while trying to run away from the past. DISCLAIMER - MAY OR MAY NOT CONTAIN MORE SWEARING THAN 'A Fox's Love'.
1. Bank Stick-up Pt I

_Bang._

The sound of a gunshot rang through the bank as the manager, Anna Bleopul was rewarded for her helpful assistance with death. Freddy Fazbear stood with his boss and brother, Don Freddie Alejandro Fazbear, gun in hand, staring at the manager's corpse, blood and brain oozing out of the wound and onto the prestigiously expensive carpets, rugs and cabinets of the managers office. Freddy, only 28, had never killed anybody, not feeling bad about it afterwards, anyway.

"Freddy, come on. She deserved it." Freddie, better known as Fred, was trying to cheer up Freddy, his underboss, unsuccessfully. It was well known that Freddy would do anything for his brother, and for his family, but he hated having to harm or kill women. It was the one thing he despised more than anything in the world. Being rickrolled, even Crazy Frog was something he preferred over violence to a female human. In Freddy's case, that was saying something.

"Yeah, **_she_**. You **know** I don't like killing women."

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry. Let's just go. We'll get the money, then we'll go back to our base and relax with a nice, genuine cuban cigar. And a drink."

"You know I don't smoke, either. A drink sounds good though." This, of course was complete bullshit. He did smoke, often, too. It was one of his hobbies, but he never, ever let Fred find out. That was a risk he didn't want to take. Right around that point, sirens were blaring outside of the building, getting louder and louder every second. _DONG. DONG. DONG._ 3AM. The money was still sealed inside of the vault.

"Freddy, get Foxy in here." Hijacking the phone line, Freddy was worried that he would be caught by the bank security system and fuck the entire plan. Not that the security wasn't completely and utterly crap in every way.

"Yeah? Look, I be really busy. I don't be wantin ta buy anytin."

"Foxy, get over here. Birch Hill Bank. Hurry. Bring some dynamite." Before Foxy could say anything, the call ended. And as Freddy slammed the receiver down, Fred unplugged the phone and threw it at an armed guard's face, forcing him into a severe comatose state, from which recovery was unlikley. Freddy, as much as he tried to retain self-control, couldn't help but burst out in laughter, distracting Fred. During this distraction, the largest SWAT squad in the whole of America was able to sneak in, the only indication of their presence was the faint sound of rustling armor, and the smell. The squad's armor set was bulky, absorbing most damage dealt to the arms, shoulders and stomach areas. It was black, with the word 'POLICE' vertically written in big white letters on the back, SWAT horizontally on the front. Helmets were the only non-mandatory piece of armor, but taking was recommended because the helmets were made of thick, almost unbreakable plastic, the visor from bulletproof glass.

"FREEZE!"

"Go fuck yourself." Freddy, without even bothering to think about what he was saying threw at the SWAT commander. Fred contemplated scolding Freddy for letting the SWAT in in the first place, but he had better things to do in the time that they had.

"Both of you, drop your guns, and put your hands behind your backs. Your under arrest." Freddy had an airsoft gun specifically for this. He grabbed the gun, and shattered it on the floor.

Oops! How clumsy of me." By this point, Freddy was just saying whatever came to mind in an accent that seems appropriate for the sentence.

"Freddy, Initiate EGY BHillB. You'll need these." Fred, throwing a car key, commanded, to which Freddy remained silent and nodded, catching the keys and bursting through a door directly behind him and running out of a window, falling through another window leading to a corridor just downstairs of the SWAT confrontation. The key was that of the planned getaway car, a Nissan 370Z Roadster. The car was a pearlescent blue-black color, with a soft top red roof, with seating capacity for 2, the back two seats taken out for extra storage.

Freddy, through excessive measures, managed to install high-tech security locks to the trunk of the car, hiding the built in cell phone, and Freddy's two custom-built Taurus 4510B6MAG Judge revolvers, as well as two Taurus Raging Bulls, also custom built for maximum efficiency, highest bullet capacity, and lowest recoil possible. Freddy eventually found a door to the back where the car was, bursting through it in a more than over used dramatic Hollywood fashion and running to the car trunk, opening it with the emergency code 5H1T. Freddy always hated the ringtones everyone got for the built-in cell phone. Especially Foxy's.

"DO WHAT YOU WANT 'COS A PIRATE IS FREE! YOU ARE A PIRATE!"

"God, I gotta get Fred to change that damn ringtone." Freddy stayed with his thought for a while, not being reeled back into reality until the phone had rung out, and had begun to ring again, after a swift 5 second delay. Knowing it was Foxy calling, Freddy answered the phone.

"Hey Freddy, I just got ta te bank. Ya want me ta just detonate te doors and slaughter anytin' in mah way, or take a stealty attack metod and pick te locks?" It was obvious that Foxy would rather blow everything up, but he needed to learn to be stealthy in certain situations. This one especially.

"You know this is one of the stealth requiring missions for you. Don't let _**anyone**_ see or hear you until _**after**_ you blow up the vault doors, yeah?"

"Yeah. Sure." Freddy heard the hidden disappointment in Foxy's voice, sighing before saying one last thing.

"Don't forget the Desert Eagle in the glove compartment. I spent ages looking for a way to fix the damn thing." The connection was halted and Foxy's face lit up at Freddy's words, knowing that his brother had finally come through for him and gotten round to reattaching the trigger of Foxy's favorite non-chamber operated handgun ever made. Foxy was some kind of super human, with senses 5 times more sensitive than a normal humans. Freddy grabbed the four revolvers and bolted back into the building, sneaking upstairs, right behind the SWAT team, crawling around, unseen, unheard. He burst through the door again, stopping just behind Freddie, secretly giving him two of the guns he gun from the car, keeping the other two for himself.

"SIRS! IF YOU DO NOT COMPLY, I WILL BE FORCED TO TERMINATE YOU!" The SWAT commander spoke with a strong southern accent, boldly threatening the duo as if they were playing Halo on XBOX LIVE. Unknown to the SWAT team wasting time by raiding the bank, the Fazbear brothers were planning a very special gift to the local council. An abandoned SWAT building full of ex-SWAT corpses.

"Avviare B collina Money-titolare rifugio polizia. Affrettatevi." The Fazbear trio were all fluent in Italian, and often communicated in it instead of English to have private discussions without having to excuse themselves from a room. But if anyone heard them talking Italian, and was fluent in it himself, then they, essentially, were fucked.

"STOP WITH THE JIBBER JABBER, AND COOPERATE WITH US, FOR THE BENEFIT OF YOUR OWN HEALTH!" Of course, nothing the commander did effected the Fazbears in the slightest. In fact, his attempts amused them so much, that they decided that his gift would come first.

A/N - Hope that you enjoyed the first chapter of this story! I have an ending planned, but ideas are welcome for anywhere between now and then! When I start to wrap this story up, I'll probably announce it about 5-10 chapters before the last one. ;)

Until next time, FF


	2. Bank Stick-up Pt II

A/N - If anyone wants the Character profiles for any of the characters just pm me and i'll send you them through DocX! I have plenty of them, in both English and Italian, but more need done, so I'll work on more as more characters are introduced in.

Until next time, FF

*Foxy POV*

I left my car in the parking lot, dumping it like a used pair of cheap shades. Crouching, I slowly made my way inside the building and down to the vault. I lowered the bomb onto the ground, dropping it with a loud clank and set the fuse to about 1½ minutes. As Freddy had instructed, the approach I took was the stealthiest possible. The security cameras, slowly, one by one, had the live feed going into the monitor replaced with footage of the guard patrol from last week. I had a strange feeling that someone was going to come near me and shoot, but only when I heard footsteps did I take cover. I had no idea who the steps belonged to, but I had no intention to find out by staring down the barrel of their gun.

"Pssst! Foxy! You down here?" It sounded like Freddy whispering to me, but on a job like this, I couldn't just trust my natural instincts. That, and Freddy NEVER says 'you' when talking to me. I stayed silent, attempting to stay hidden from whoever was calling me.

"If it's you, flash our safe code." The safe code was a simple security measure Freddie implemented into the family to prove the identity of a person impersonating a Fazbear. It was executed using a flashlight, or some kind of light source, and was this : Light on for 3 seconds, off for 2. Then on again for 8 seconds, then off and immediately on again for a final of 19.8 seconds. The recommended flashlight for this specific code was a dyno flash, but a commonly used object, used Don Fazbear himself, was an Aurora Lighter/Flashlight combo, eliminating the need for an independent lighter. By the time I had finished imputing the code, I realized that it could have been a cop in disguise, but it was too late to think about that. Of course, when the code was flashed at you, it was customary to perform it back. And if you weren't a real member of the family, you wouldn't have the **perfect** timing required to pull it off correctly.

 _Click.  
…_

 _Click  
.._

 _Click  
_ ….….

Click Click

…..….….….

20 Seconds. Obviously, this guy was utter shit, so, I leaped up, without hesitation, and threw myself onto the ceiling, crawling along it like a baby, my hook carving holes in the fragile plasterboard, all the while positioning myself securely above the imposter. Knowing this guy was a fraud, I forced my hook out of the ceiling and lowered it into the man's head, killing him almost instantly, and silently, allowing SWAT to be unknowledgeable as to my location _._ I dropped off of the ceiling, dumping the corpse, ripping my hook through the flesh and brain, running away from the bomb, which, now only had about 5 seconds left, turning left at the first hallway, Deagle in hand, prepared to shoot anybody who got in my way.

*End of POV*

"Hey Freddy, you **did** call Foxy, right?" Fred yelled to Freddy from behind cover, trying to be heard over the gunshots and taunts from the intense gunfight with SWAT as a result of offing the commander.

"Yeah! You told me to, and honestly, you are the one person I _**don't**_ want to fuck with."

Yeah, damn right you don't. So, where the he-"

 _Boom._ The bomb detonated as expected, bringing the brick walls of the corridors down, as well as blowing a hole right through the perfectly circular door of the vault, blackening the area around the detonation, denting the floor. Right at this exact moment, Foxy ran up the stairs, tackling any and all SWAT in his way, like an angry football player on steroids, simultaneously covering them in lighter fluid, ready to burn.

"I be right 'ere, Fred!" From covering SWAT in lighter fluid to being directly behind Fred and Freddy, Foxy was faster than **anyone** and _**everyone**_ in the world. Knowing Foxy was behind him, Fred reminded him of the one simple rule he had to follow if he was ever needed on a stealth job.

 _-Flashback-_

" _And remember, **no superspeed running.** It's a distinctive trait in you, and so using it essentially alerts everyone around us whats happening." Fred was clearly being firm about this, and it was one of the only things that had been expected of him in an important job._

" _Aye, dat be fine bro." Foxy said, stuffing his face with sweets as he carefully pressed buttons on his PlayStation controller, leaning in towards the television set. He was playing Mafia II, one of his favorite games, but both of the other Fazbears just thought it was, quite frankly, shit._

 _-Flashback-_

" _You **do** remember what I told you just 2 hours ago… right?" Freddie was agitated, knowing full well that Foxy had ignored him. His tone showed this, although it was more angry than threatening, despite it being the other way around for Freddy. Foxy remained silent, merely grunting in response._

" _Ugh. You know, if you weren't my brother, and one of the best soldatos here, I'd probably shoot you **right here**_." Fred joked, putting his guns away in his jacket pocket, and running down to the vault, and not stopping until he reached the corpse right next to the vault, more severed than it was before.

"What the hell? Did yo… You did this, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but-"

"What the fuck were you thinking!?"

"32820."

"Oh. Shit. Well then."

"Guys, we can't afford any more distractions or arguments. Foxy killed someone out side of the family, so what? We killed a FUCKING SWAT commander and we didn't throw a fucking party!" Fred was rushing his brothers to the vault, the argument continuing.

"Sei cazzo serio!? Che cosa vuoi dire che non ho il diritto di uccidere chi voglio?"

"Idiota."

"ENTRAMBI VOI, CHIUSO IL CULO CAZZO, O SPARO TUTTI E DUE, E PRENDERE TUTTI I VOSTRI SOLDI E BRUCIARE I VOSTRI CADAVERI CAZZO POI LI MANGIANO PER CENA PIÙ DI UNA SETTIMANA!" This shut both Foxy and Freddy up, mainly on the basis that neither of them wanted to be eaten by the most powerful man in the country.

"Hmm. Impressionante. Sapette come zitto. Now come on, we need to get the money."Fred calmed down almost immediately, but realized just what he said that left both of his brothers cowering in fear, running away when eye contact was made.

"Dannazione! Senti, non volevo dire questo. Sai che non farebbe di tutto per farti del male!" Utter silence came out of this, nobody saying anything at all.

"You **do** know that, right?"

"Hmm. Good point. The hell _would_ you do without us?" Freddy agreed with his brother. Foxy, on the other hand, didn't believe any of it.

"Let's just get the money and go. O è Fred andando a mangiare me per la cena, mentre lo faccio troppo?" Fred stayed silent, and ran into the vault, grabbing money and shoving it in the bags, emptying the vault in just under 2 minutes, a new speed record for anyone.

"I've had enough of this. Let's go." Fred was angered, clearly. Of course, he would actually kill Foxy, as he joked earlier, but he needed him for his super-senses, and well, he were brothers. This always happens between Fred and Foxy, it always has. Fred and Freddy, however, agreed on **everything**. No-one ever really got on too well with Foxy, not his brothers, not his parents, not even his tutors or employers. In fact, the only people that really worked well with Foxy were his cousin, Bonnie H Hupper, and his part time employer, Jerry, even though he often avoided Foxy out of fear.

"Righto bro!" Freddy was overly enthusiastic about leaving, and splitting the dough.

"Err… Fre-"

"Shut your face, prick." Fred wanted nothing to do with the younger of his two brothers, treating him like shit, even though he was only 16. Foxy was trying to warn Fred about cops incoming, but since Freddie was being such a shit faced cocksucker, instead decided to stay silent, and maybe leave the city, perhaps even the state until the crap blew over.

*Freddy POV*

I HATED to see Fred treating Foxy like that, but, as a member of the mafia **lower** than him, there wasn't much I could do.

"Fred, please, hear him out. For me." I could reason with him, but that was all. The rest depended **entirely** on Fred's mood and relationship with whoever.

"Look mate, I know you want me to be more reasonable with my family, but Foxy has CROSSED THE FUCKING LINE, and, quite frankly, I can't fucking deal with it. But, just for you, I'll create a singular exception for today and today only. Right Fo-" Fred made that single exception based purely on the fact that I wanted him to. Of course, Foxy had already gone home. Not that either of us knew.

*Timeskip – 3 hours later*

"WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU? YOU AREN'T AT THE HOUSE, YOU'RE NOT AT THE COMPOUND..." Fred yelled into the telephone box, me standing right outside, Fred's voice booming outward, almost shattering the glass. The phone boxes, when first put in, where allegedly "so soundproof, the loudest man in the world can't be heard from the outside." Ha. Soundproof my ass.

*End POV*

"I took a break. Why the fuck are you even talking to me!? Don't call this fucking number ever again, or I turn."

"Turn? The hell you on about now?"

"Rat." Fred was vulnerable to this threat the most, the idea of being caught once again wouldn't be friendly for his ammo stash, his foot, **or** a cop's life.

"… Well when do ya come back? At least give me some closure on this bullshit! Please!"

"Depends. Couple years. Maybe I never will. I don't know. Perhaps I'll move here. It's really nice. Depends if I ever forgive you. Arrivederci, mio fratello." On this, a loud, sharp 'BZZZZZZZZZZ' erupted from the handset of the telephone. Gone. Just like that. Fred didn't know if he would ever see his brother again, or if he would ever be forgiven, but didn't want to dwell on that in case cried in public. He gave a slight whimper, and slowly made his way outside of the box, allowing the overcoat of his suit to trail on the ground slightly, something he was always fussy about. Grabbing the smooth, shiny chrome handle of his personally customized 1982 Checker Marathon limo, Fred entered the vehicle, waiting for Freddy to enter before muttering two simple sentences.

"He's gone, I don't know where. He might not come back ever again, so just take me home." Fred blamed himself entirely for Foxy leaving, but suspected where he might have gone. He tossed he keys to his brother in a depressing manner, Freddy barely catching them. The car rumbled and grumbled as the engine shook about in the hood, bringing the car to life. The limo slowly pulled out into the cramped road, and slowly inched forward as the congestion began to ease and the roads got bendier. Freddy put his brothers favorite CD into the entertainment system, however failing to cheer up the Fazbear don.

"Do you mind? Look bro, I know that you're trying to make me feel better, and I really appreciate that, but can you just put it off? Sonic remixes just aren't doing it." Sonic remixes were Freddie's absolute favorite, and were pretty much guaranteed to cheer him up. But not this time. Oh no. No where near it. All he wanted was this to end. For Foxy to come back. But he fucked up, and he had to live with the consequences. The car journey to the Fazbear compound was silent, lonely and depressing, Fred not saying a word as he stepped out of the car.


	3. An Idea

Fred went into his office straight away, something he has never done since his father passed down the family business in 2005, running it flawlessly for a full decade. He sat in his chair, in front of his computer, tears silently streaming down his cheeks, slowly, Freddie not even bothering to wipe them off. Everything had gone to shit. Foxy hated Fred, Fred was broken, and Freddy had little idea what to do about anything. Anyone remotely connected to the mob calls Foxy asking for him at the hotel he's staying at, then he turns rat on Fred.

"Erhm, Don Fazbear, do you have a minute to spare? Your brother Freddy would like a word with you when you are ready sir." A somewhat deep voice called, standing just outside the door, but not so close that one would be able to hear the faint sound of Fred's crying. The voice was that of Freddie's personal servant.

"Yeah. Tell him I'll be…." Fred said through the closed door, before stopping suddenly, being thrown into a massive coughing fit, stopping about 30 to 40 seconds later. "Tell him I'll be right there."

"Certainly, master. He wishes to meet in the cigar lounge." The servant said, sharply, as if trying to hurry the almost depressed Fazbear boss. Fred's servant was tall and slim, with turd brown hair and eyes greener than grass itself. He wore a charcoal suit, with a dark blue-navy bow tie. Opening the door slightly, Thomas, Fred's servant saw Fred in the worst conditions he'd ever been seen in. Loosened tie, vest off, shirt unbuttoned… The list could go on. He initially thought of not saying anything, but decided to instead, considering Fred wouldn't be strong enough to fight back and fire him.

"You really should, um, tidy yourself up for your meeting, master." Thomas, or Tommy was worried about this, as Fred, even when depressed, is still the most powerful man in America, and easily could have had him fired, tortured, kidnapped, or even killed.

"Nah. There's no point with the fucking formal wear anymore. There's no point with anything anymore." Ignoring his master's sudden change in attitude, Thomas moved out of the way and let Fred past as he was, not bothering to bring up the fact that you could easily see his underwear just by standing behind him. Fred stumbled into the cigar lounge lazily as shit, almost tripping up over his untied laces, staying more or less silent, only saying a maximum of 10 words per sentence, and restricting himself to only 4 sentences per minute.

"You alright?" Freddy inquired, clearly uptight about Freddie's lack of determination to do a thing, as well as Foxy fucking off.

"Hmm. Let's see… The youngest of my two brothers had fucked off, and consequently my life has gone to shit, so er, yeah. Ahm over the fuckin moon!" Sarcasm was usually Foxy's thing, but in his absence, Freddie decided to try it out.

"Argh, for fuck sakes! Are you being fucking SERIOUS!?" Freddy knew Freddie wasn't going to be of much use, running the business or anything else, and was getting seriously pissed off at the thought. "Look, I know what you're going through, and it's horrible, but you **need** to help me. Come on. Let's go to the boardroom." The boardroom had few purposes. One was planning heists and kidnappings, and the other, rescue missions. Fred knew this, he was smart. Depressed, so not very bright, but smart none-the-less. And because Freddie was such a smartass, he pretty much knew what his brother was getting at.

"No. It's too-"

"Risky? You fucking pussy asshole. The hell happened to you?"

"WHAT'D YOU JUSS FUCKIN' SAY TAH ME!?" Fred boomed, furious at yet also proud of his brother at the same time.

"Well, you used to be the balls-iest of our family. You would do anything for us. Now, you have zero balls, thanks to your latest e-bay transaction, and you do fuck all. Fuck off!" This was true, however this was simply out of caution, not fear, contrary to popular belief. "Look, bro. I want Foxy back, you **need** him back. Neither of us are the same without him. Admit it." Freddy was often successful in convincing his boss, even more so when he's upset (Fred, not Freddy).

"You're right… We need him back. But is a prison sentence **really** worth a few seconds more with our brother? I do- Ya know what…? Kill any cop who approaches us. To the planning station!" On the way to the planning room, there was a previously unnoticed detail in Freddie's change of attitude.

"Waywaywaywaywaywaywait… Back there… Even Bonnie?"

A/N - This chapter is **WAY** shorter than planned, and **WAY** later than it should have been, but shit's been REAL hectic lately, so I was unable to find time to produce this. Plus, my house was broken into :(. Until next time, FF


End file.
